


Just Friends

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Post-season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Brienne and Jaime are good friends.





	Just Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that I've had half-finished in my folder for a while. Finally finished it and want to get it posted before I start anything new.

Jaime stiffened beside Brienne. Without looking, she could see his jaw clenching and his face turn white and clammy. Sweat glistened on his forehead even before the flames grew. Like a plague, unease spread throughout the hall. None who remembered the name 'Mad King Aerys' could watch a Targaryen Queen burn a man to a crisp without flinching. Especially as Queen Daenerys remained as cold as her silver white hair.

Even King Jon eyed his love with a faint trace of fear.

Brienne's eyes flickered towards Lord Tyrion and Lord Varys. Was that doubt on their face? Were they watching their Queen for a sign of her father's madness? The man's cries were ripped from his throat as the flames reached his skin. Brienne could barely stand to watch the man...well, the boy. He couldn't be older than eighteen and despite his crime, Brienne could not help the stirring of pity.

The stench of burning flesh flooded the hall and Jaime's shoulders started heaving. Brienne looked and saw tears in his green eyes.

Brienne grabbed a hold of Jaime and walked him out.

The crowd parted without a word, and the pair were able to make their exit in enough time for Jaime to vomit outside. That morning's gruel was swiftly followed by a fountain of last night's dinner. Chunks of what they had been assured was beef sprayed against the snow. Even from outside, they could still hear the screams.

Brienne rubbed Jaime's back as he spat up the last of it. Finally, he straightened up and rested against Brienne, gasping.

“Thank you,” he murmured. He looked at the puddle of vomit and grimaced, “Sorry about the mess,”

“It's alright,” Brienne assured him, “I've seen it all before. Didn't think any less of you then, I wouldn't now,”

Jaime smiled wryly. “You're a good friend,” he said.

Brienne stifled a sigh. _'Friend.'_

#

Brienne buried her head in the crook of Jaime's shoulder, gripping tighter into the back of his cloak as he heaved her onto her bed. He gently detached himself from her, keeping a hold of her hand and kissing her forehead. Even so, Brienne moaned as he moved away. He cries for him were far from dignified, but the Maester was already stripping her of her clothes to get to her wounds. She had lost her dignity ever since a cursing Sandor Clegane carried her from the battlefield.

Tears swelled in her eyes and she bit down on her cushion as alcohol was poured on her wound. Jaime cooed into her ear, kneeling beside the bed and still clutching her hand. He stayed by her all throughout the Maester's ministrations. As he cleaned the gouges carved into her skin and stitched the ravaged flesh back together. All the while Jaime held her and tipped milk of the poppy down her throat.

As her wounds were tended to, Brienne slipped in and out of consciousness, Jaime's voices hanging constantly in her ear. It was his voice and his hand that kept her rooted and the waves of pain threatened to sweep her away. Eventually, her mind fogged by milk of the poppy, Brienne drifted into a broken sleep.

“Will she be alright?” a concerned voice asked.

Brienne could just make out the shape of Lady Sansa's lovely form. Her height only bestowed upon her the elegance that it robbed Brienne. Her red hair a rippling flame to Brienne's butchered straw.

“She's holding on,” Ser Jaime told Lady Sansa, his gentle voice causing Brienne's stomach to squirm. Compared to Sansa, a clammy Brienne had to look like a seal. Slick and large and ugly.

“You have been with her all night?” Lady Sansa stepped forward, peering over Jaime's shoulder..

“I have,” Jaime confirmed.

“You care about her,” it was not a question.

“She's the dearest friend I have,”

Brienne groaned into her cushion from what Jaime and Sansa assumed was pain.

#

She was not jealous. She was not jealous. She was _not_ jealous.

Jaime bowed and kissed the Dragon Queen’s perfect, dainty hand.

Fuck. She was jealous. Brienne kept her face carefully blank as Ser Jaime and Queen Daenerys conversed, staring determinedly ahead of her.

So what if the Queen was as beautiful as Jaime was handsome? So what if she had a voice like bells and hair like silver? So what if the tiny Queen could seize control of an entire country’s attention, whereas she, the great lumbering cow, could only hope to hide in the corner? None of that mattered to Brienne. Not one bit.

Though Brienne could not quite but wonder if it did matter to Jaime, just one bit.

She was not sure what brought about this change in Jaime. He had never particularly cared for Targaryen before, indeed at times he was outright hostile. Still, Queen Daenerys had won over greater foes. She was proud and elegant and dainty. It was only to be expected. Ladies like Queen Daenerys, or Lady Sansa and the late Queen Margaery, they were women meant for sun and love and light. Fine and beautiful, sparkling like polished jewels. Whereas she, poor, awkward creature, was best left to the shadows.

Nothing would happen between the Queen and the Kingslayer, but watching them forced Brienne to face the reality that one day, Jaime would find a woman. A woman who was beautiful and graceful and poised. A woman who was nothing like her. For all that Jaime respected her, cared for her even, he could never return the love that Brienne gave up to him on a silver platter. They were comrades at arms, nothing more. And Jaime longed for a family.

He had told her that often enough.

She was just about the make a discrete exit, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Ser Jaime,” she said in greeting, staring at the ground.

“My lady,” he replied, his green eyes crinkled and his smile warm, “I have just been discussing a topic of great import with our beauteous Queen,”

“Indeed,” Brienne replied, staring persistently at the ground.

“On the topic of marriage,”

At this, Brienne's eyes could not help but flutter up as her heart began to beat at quite a disconcerting pace. “Oh?”

“She has kindly given me permission to wed, and with great haste,”

Brienne frowned in confusion. “Why with great haste?”

Jaime reached out and pulled Brienne to him, lightly kissing her on the lips. “Why, so I can get my bride away from the Wildling who keeps on staring at her. In truth, I have been feeling rather jealous,”

 


End file.
